Farming in the Dust
Escaping the Grip of the Dust Bowl __TOC__ 1. Black Sunday One of America's Worst Sanstorms James was sitting at the window of his small wooden house, watching the dark clouds gather in the distance. Ever since his parents died in a dust storm he was horribly scared of them. The storms were getting more and more numerous every year and the news started speaking of a “dust bowl”. His family hadn’t gotten a good harvest in years. The wind started howling and the sun darkened. “I’d better get going.” he said to himself. James went outside and started sealing off the windows and shutters with the materials the government had provided them. He walked around the house checking every window, resisting the wind. He managed to get inside and seal off the door. Lighting the lanterns, James sat down to have left over food from the morning. This would be his last meal before the dust storm was over. He slumped onto his bed and tried not to imagine all the things that could happen to him. The house was rattling, clearly revealing the house’s unstable wooden frame. Four years ago, Oklahoma had had a bad harvest. The following years there had been droughts and increasing numbers of dust storms. Now he was twelve years old and nothing was better. He was alone and on the verge of running. He would run away to California, where he had relatives. His parents were planning to move, but then that dust storm came. It just made everything worse. James was ripped from his thoughts when the house wiggled, the boards cracked. What should he do? The best thing he could think of was pack his things. In case, he thought. In case, he hoped. James took his packed bag and went toward the door. Behind him the first window splintered. He had his jacket draped over his head as protection for what was coming. He listened carefully to the sand and wind rattling and howling on the door and turned away from it. He examined the splintered window, cracking boards and piles of sand. He listened to the wind coming in and whistling if an object was its way. He turned back to the door. He had made up his mind. The wind was blowing so hard that James could hardly open the door and got painfully squeezed once he had managed to slip in. When he completed his odyssey out the door, he tumbled over and was slammed against the door. He struggled up, just to be blown all over again. He was slowly advancing, though James didn’t know to where. He didn’t have a compass or the slightest idea in which direction California might be. Tired, he collapsed into the dusty ground. When he turned around, James noticed that he was barely twenty meters away from his house though that hardly surprised him. The air was so full of dust, that he could only see the outlines of his so close house. Day had turned into darkness. Suddenly the hut collapsed into a pile of beams. James hurried back, looking for a little bit of shelter and remaining objects. He knew exactly this was going to happen. James tried to look around for any sign of life, but because he could not see his feet, this matter was pretty difficult. He started again in a different direction hoping to find some kind of shelter. He would pay anything for a good view now; and suddenly, the wind released some of its hard grip. James rushed along with sudden motivation. But after a while the wind picked up again and he stumbled facedown into the sandy earth. James was just lying there still, now on his back so he could breathe. “I might as well give up.” he declared to the dusty air. The air seemed to be answering with a loud screeching howl. “At least I would have shelter!” he continued to a single bushel of brown grass in the dusty infinite plains. He struggled to get up, rolled around and stayed there motionless. His eyes were focusing on a single, electrical light in the distance. The light was cutting through the thick, dusty air. It was a sign of life in the noon dark. At least there was a small settlement over there. He stood up and began advancing toward the light. It was growing larger and revealed a small city. When he came to a road, he started following it, still orienting himself by the beam of light and hope in the darkness. James walked down the main street of the town. The settlement was called Boise city, Oklahoma, pronounced rhyming with “voice”. It was mainly deserted, with the street lights casting a dim light on the street. James stayed on the main street trying not to get lost. As he started coming into the center of town, he could see the fire department. He hurried under the roof, settled and waited. “At least I have some shelter now” he murmured to himself and took the coat from over his head to use it as a mattress. Every ten minutes or so, James saw people scurrying along the street, coats draped over their heads and running toward their destination. A couple of cars passed by, but not much happened. In the late evening he woke up again. The wind had stopped and the traffic was almost a normal evening traffic, but the dust was still in the air. He regarded the town for a couple of moments, then slumped down on his jacket and fell asleep again. 2. Boise City A Typical Farming Town in Oklahoma James woke up the next morning on a jacket in an unfamiliar neighborhood. He looked around and didn’t recognize anything. A light breeze blew some dust into the eyes. “Oh” he mumbled quietly. Now he remembered. Some firemen had pushed him to the side, toward the wall and further under the roof that resembled his shelter. Suddenly a firefighter came out of one of the bigger buildings and headed toward James. “Good morning! Would you like to have some breakfast with Boise City’s firefighters?” the man greeted. James who hadn’t eaten in a while took the offer “Thank you for your generosity, sir. I really appreciate the offer.” He hadn’t been expecting such a polite invitation to breakfast. He figured it was only because he was a child that had to sleep on the streets alone. But that hadn’t bothered him. After James had had a complete breakfast and had thanked the firemen for their generosity again, he left the fire department and continued to wander down the main street. He stopped by at a news stand to look at the headlines in the local morning papers. The Title pages mostly were about yesterday’s storm which they called “Black Sunday”. It had been the worst dust storm in the dust bowl until now. Everyone hoped it would stay the worst storm. The word Sunday made him think. Actually he had not been keeping track of his weekdays. Why did they matter to him anyway, if he didn’t work and didn’t have any parents anymore? He walked on, still thinking about the pictures in the paper. Gigantic dust clouds rolling in, the devastation afterward and the darkness during the storm brought up some of his least favorite thoughts. James was still walking down Main Street, when suddenly he could see the edge of town. He sighed, walked a little more and then turned around just to start through town all over again. After he had passed the traffic circle, James stopped. There was something here that he recognized. He looked at the street sign. Out loud he read “Cimarron Avenue”, to no one. It was one of the major streets. There was a sign pointing toward the U.S. Post Office of the very small town. Maybe he would try that direction. Boise city was a county seat, but it didn’t even have a train station! When he came to the edge of the town again, something seemed very familiar. He knew that park. Without thinking he navigated into the park. Had he gone crazy or did he really know this place? James was steering toward a small farmer’s house, which seemed very familiar to him. He stopped in front of the door and knocked three times. A boy about his age opened the door. As his crazy instincts told him, he was his age. “Who are you!” demanded the boy at the door. “Well,” started James feeling a pretty awkward “I...uhm...sorry, excuse me…my name is James…I didn’t mean to…” James stumbled over every word he said. He was very ashamed of himself, trusting his instincts to lead him to this random house. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. “Just tell me what you want!” the boy said impatiently. Then a woman appeared in the doorway. James thought he remembered her, but he quickly dismissed the thought as impossible. “Hello James! Arthur, do you remember James from preschool?” the woman asked. James was heard to let out a sigh of relief. But now it was Arthur’s turn to look full of shame. More specifically, he looked as if he’d just confused a bird with a fish. “Uhm...Hello James…I’m happy to see you.” He started to mumble. But James didn’t need a proper greeting anymore. He was filled with happiness and old, good memories. Now he remembered everything. Because of the beginning of the Great Depression, his family didn’t have enough money anymore to begin an education. They needed him at the farm. For one year though, he continued to visit his best friend, Arthur, in Boise City. Then he had to work permanently on the farm. That was why he had remembered the street. That is why he recognized the park and took his normal routinely walk to their house. “What happened to you, James? We haven’t seen you in a long time.” His thoughts were disrupted by the voice of Arthur’s mother. So James came in and told the whole story from the work on the farm, to the day when his parents died and then finally, how the dust storm had brought him here. He told them about the friendly firemen and his weird, leading instincts. Finally, they all laughed. It had been such a coincidence, because James and Arthur both didn’t recognize each other. Arthur’s mom told him he could stay there if he wanted, but Arthur had already led him over to his room to show him what had changed since they last saw each other. Category:Historical Fiction